They have not the poor always with them, and so their males do not force the young females by starving them until they yield for money. Neither do they know of such base acts as rape, seduction and broken vows amongst them. Jesus Christ knew all this when he told us to have the heart right. Aye, but how can we have the heart right when superstition makes us believe that we do wrong. Here, then, is the key, and that old sinner, William Shakespeare, found it when he said that there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. We think love a sin, when it is as natural as breathing and as beautiful as the warm birth of sunrise.
Are these statements true or not true? I appeal not to the advocates of the so-called “free love.” They are debauchees, too low for notice. I appeal not to religious ascetics, or bloodless beings. I appeal to normal, healthy, passionate men and women. Is it so, or is it not so?
Ah, you scientists, you theologians, cease seeking for what is hidden from us. Give up what is beyond us. Turn instead and tell us what of the Geology of Passion? What of the Dogmas of the female’s right to the male?
Come, Sandy, bring my tin spade and empty the little bucket upon the beach. I am going to try a new cement.
X
Once again I am in the company of my royal host, His Excelsior. The Great Axilla is showing me another section of his collection of men. We are in a vast inclosure which resembles a city park. Crossing it are shaded walks with benches at intervals, and at the intersection of these various paths, that is at the centre of the park, is a fountain. Upon the benches are seated men of different ages, some with chins almost beardless, others in the evening of life, with the harsh furrows of experience upon their features, and many who are worn into greyness.
“Look at these men,” said His Excelsior, “examine them with care and tell me what you see.”
I gazed about me with intentness, but remained silent.